Chickens are one of those things that, from a farming perspective, you either hate or you barely tolerate to the best of your ability. Sure, on their best day they can be fun to have around - chickens pecking around the farmyard is about as close to the pastoral ideal as you can get. But on the day-to-day chickens that are allowed to be outside and walking around are a nuisance. They NEVER stay where they’re supposed to be, and they constantly find new and horrible ways to kill themselves. But despite the hassle of raising them free range there is still considerable demand for their meat and eggs, and raising chickens outside - the way they were meant to live - is an important part of agriculture in America.

One of the things that people don’t always realize is that there are in reality two distinct types of chickens in a multi-animal farm. One type, the meat birds, are usually raised on pasture in chicken tractors (made famous by Joel Salatin) that allow the birds to be moved to fresh grass every day where they can peck around and gain muscle relatively quickly and in decently large numbers. The other type are the layers, pampered hens usually raised either in movable coops or right in the farmyard itself. These birds are looked after constantly, with their every need seen to. The reason is simple, eggs from free-range organically fed chickens are big money. I used to sell pastured chicken eggs at a farmer’s market for $8/dozen and they would be the first thing we’d sell out of. I’ve seen well-dressed Manhattanites fight over the last carton of eggs.

Wow, so, it's been a while. I swear I have a great reason for completely dropping of the face of the Earth. Since my last post (an in-depth treatise on the bountiful beauty of the pork sirloin, no less), I've been seriously caught up with a special work project: We're opening a second shop!

Those of you out there who may have some experience in the retail meat world know that opening a butcher shop is a logistical and regulatory nightmare. It's a fun nightmare, but an exhausting one. Anyway, that was what my holiday and early 2016 has looked like but now we're finally about to give birth to this thing and my hope (or really, my prayer to whatever ancient God controls these sort of things) is that things will begin to slow down enough for me to bring you the good-meat news once again.

​It's been a while. Super interesting stuff happening on my end but unfortunately things like opening a new butcher shop don't really leave much time for my august and learned meat ramblings. I'll be back soon I promise, but in the meantime here's Donald Trump shilling steaks.

The wind is howling outside, the sky is that lovely shade of “screw-you” grey, and rotting leaves are piling up on my doorstep. People, it’s roast season. In my mind there is nothing better than a big roast cooking away in the oven to compliment this gorgeous fall weather. Throw in some heavily spiked mulled cider and you’ve got just about as perfect a day as it’s possible to get without copious illegal substances. “But,” you’re asking yourself, “what roast, out of all the possible roasts, is the one I really want to be cooking this blustery October afternoon.” The answer, to me at least, is simple: breeze right past the posh boneless loins, and dry aged beef joints, and go right for a big honking pork sirloin.

The London leg of our trip was amazing; we spent 2 full days doing nothing but eating, drinking, and checking out butcher shops (sometimes all three at the same time). But for me, the fun really started when we climbed into our massive diesel rental car/boat and headed out west. Here are some thoughts in no particular order: